Something Different
by BorrowerEllie
Summary: A borrower by the name of Ellie moves into the walls of 221B Baker St., but can she remain hidden from the very perceptive Sherlock Holmes? The first in what I hope to be a series about Borrower Ellie.
1. Chapter 1

First. Ellie is a borrower: a race extremely similar to humans, except for one thing. They are typically less than 5 inches tall. Borrowers get their name from their survival tactics. They "borrow" things from humans. Under no circumstances are borrowers allowed to be seen.

Second. Ellie is not very good at being a borrower. She has been seen, captured, injured, and humiliated. She was a clumsy girl, and also very oblivious to her surroundings, which is never good for someone only 4 ½ inches tall. But, Ellie's biggest crime: she "borrows" objects that people notice. This has forced her out of human homes more than once. She couldn't help but become attached to the humans that she lived around, and she wanted to keep bits of their lives for herself. From an elderly craftswoman she had taken a prized spool of golden thread; from a businessman she had bits of a Movado watch; From her last residency, however, she had only the scars and pains of abuse. She shuddered at the memory of those grubby teenage hands torturing her.

"This time it will be different," she thought out loud to herself. "I will find an easy living spot with lots of holes and untouched food. I wont even learn the humans names." A rogue borrower had led her to 221B Baker St. saying that it would be the perfect place for her. She was tired and never even thought to question the old rouges judgment.

She waited until nightfall to scale the walls and climb through an odd hole in the window. "Strange, this looks like a bullet hole." She was thinking out loud again. She tumbled her way into a very messy living room with scattered papers and unfinished chemical experiments left lying about. She wondered what kind of lives the tenants of this strange flat had. Were they scientists? They didn't look like scientists. She had watched them leave in a flurry of excitement. One was short, dirty blonde, and carried himself with military-like pride. The other was tall, slender, and completely eccentric, yet unfeeling at the same time. She had also noticed a landlady, although they treated her more like a housekeeper.

Ellie pulled her cloak up tight around herself, and went of to find a hole in the wall. She found a good amount of them; many caused by bullets, others by experiments gone wrong, and some from the the odd angry fist. There was a nice roomy spot overlooking the living room where the bullet holes seemed to be concentrated. She decided to call it home.

It had taken Ellie less than a week to deduce that these humans did not stick to a regular schedule. The shorter blonde one tried to have an ordinary life with a job and a girlfriend, but the tall dark haired one would never allow something so "boring" to happen. Despite herself, Ellie began to grow fond of the tall one. He had an interesting way of seeing the world. He could tell a persons whole life story after analyzing them for a second. He was impossibly smart, and he knew it. He called himself a "Consulting Detective" whatever that meant. It would appear sometimes that he worked for the police, but he had no uniform or badge. His clients came to him, and he often turned them down. He would only except the extraordinary, only go after villains who could not be caught, only solve mysteries claiming to be unsolvable. One name kept popping up in several cases. Moriarty.

The short one was cute in a funny way. He was so normal in contrast to the detective. She learned through conversation that he had been an army doctor, but now he had somehow become almost a babysitter to the wild man that he lived with.

The tall man had many quirks. He often talked to himself (or maybe to the skull upon the mantle). He also had viscous mood swings. One day he would be perfectly happy with his experiments and talking with the shorter man, the next he would refuse to speak and simply sit still for hours lost in thought.

The best part of 221B was the violin. The tall man played violin in a beautiful and unique way. Sometimes he would play songs that Ellie knew, and sometimes she would catch him composing. Either way she was more than happy to lend her voice, sure that it was too tiny and too far away to be heard. She watched the lives of the two men with delight, but she tried hard to keep her promise, and had not learned their names.

Ellie kept quiet and unseen for several weeks. She had learned that it was easy to steal food, despite the tall one's perceptiveness. He never seemed to eat without the shorter one telling him to do so. Food was not something that was ever missed.

Material was a different matter. Ellie learned to only borrow from the shorter man. She had taken a sock from the tall man just once, and he had noticed its disappearance almost immediately.

She continued to observe the men through her bullet hole windows, like watching a drama on the tele. As she grew more fond of them, she fell back into her old ways. It wasn't long before she had her familiar desire to steal something more noticeable.


	2. Chapter 2

Being alone in a dusty wall at night can make one cold and sad, and Ellie was uncomfortable with the bits of cloth that she had managed to retrieve. That lovely blue scarf, however, looked very warm and soft. It wasn't long before she began to obsess over borrowing it. She knew that the tall man never left the flat without it, but she would find a way to make it hers.

It was on one of the tall mans more peculiar days that she had her opportunity. He had decided not to get dressed that day, and was instead moping around the house in a bedsheet. He was plucking mindlessly at the strings of his violin, when the shorter man walked in reading a text.

"Molly wants you to see something down at the morgue." He looked up from his phone. "Sherlock, put some pants on."

"Why would I need pants to look at a dead body?" was Sherlock's reply. "Come on, John."

John followed behind with the bag of clothes that he left around for just this situation, but he had left the scarf dangling from the back of the armchair.

Damn! She had learned their names.

Ellie prepared herself for what would be her only chance to retrieve the scarf. She went back into her home in the wall to get dressed for borrowing. She wore her short, dark brown dress, and fashioned the watch-part belt over her waist. She then braided several strands of golden thread into her hair. And to finish it off she had a long, jet black cloak that was inches too long for her. (inches are a big measurement for someone her size) All of these accessories were unnecessary, but she, like Sherlock, loved drama, even though she doesn't have an audience.

The armchair was a good distance away from the closest hole that she would be able to fit the scarf through. She would have to go into the living room, grapple the scarf, drag it into the kitchen, grapple the counter, pull it all the way up the counter with her, and stuff it through the hole before having to make the long trek through the walls and back to her spot by the bullet holes. She grabbed her fishhook grapple, and she was on her way.

She sprinted for the armchair, trying to shorten the easiest part of her journey, but of course she stumbled a bit and scratched the fishhook on her leg. "Damn!" she cursed loudly. She cleaned the hook on the hem of her cloak and continued on, fueled by adrenaline. Grappling the scarf was easy enough, but she had not counted on the amount of friction holding it to the chair. She ended up tying herself to another piece of furniture and pulled with all her might. It finally fluttered to the floor, but she had lost time. Next came the long task of dragging it behind her into the kitchen; easy enough on tile floor, but still a long slow walk. Conquering the counter tops was going to be the truly difficult task. She managed to tie the scarf to her waist and made several failed attempts to grapple anything on the top. When I caught, she knew that some scratches would be left behind. Sherlock would notice them, but he would notice that his scarf was missing too, so some scratches would be a minor thing. The climb was painful. She had never been the best climber, and now she was dragging a very large piece of cloth. She fell twice. On her triumphant attempt, she was so exhausted that she wanted to give up and nap in the scarf right then an there. She plowed on. When she reached the hole behind the stove, she cried in happiness. The biggest, heaviest, and most treasured item she had ever borrowed was hers to keep. She shoved in in the hole, and, feeling reinvigorated, laughed with pride.

Just then, Ellie felt the presence of a large and ominous shadow behind her. She turned around slowly, her heart pounding in her ears, and locked eyes with Sherlock.

She stared at the giant man in disbelief. Surly she should have heard the door open, footsteps, anything to give away his position. The icy blue eyes stared back at her from under a mop of dark curls. They didn't look angry, or even surprised. They just stared, analyzing her. Sherlock had wished for something different, and here it was gawking at him from his own kitchen counter. Ellie had sudden flashbacks to her previous housemates. Would this one try and swat her with a broom? Or leave mouse traps in every corner? Or would this one grab her and force her into situations she could not bear to think of.

"John." He yelled, it was so loud and surprising that she lost her balance. "Tell Ms. Hudson to leave some biscuits on the counter for me." And with that, Sherlock left the room, but Ellie could have sworn that she saw him wink at her.

Ellie made a break for the hole just as soon as he turned his back. She landed in the soft plushness of the scarf, and adrenaline carried her and it all the way back to her living quarters. He had seen her. The scarf was no longer a prize now. She would have to leave Baker street and find another place to live. It was a sad thought. She had really like Baker street with all its quirks and holes. She had liked the availability of food, and she had liked the men who inhabited it. Maybe... she thought, maybe he will forget about me. He will think I was some funny dream, and I can continue to stay here. Realistically she knew that Sherlock would definitely not forget. He was a smart man, and as long as his scarf was missing, he would be reminded of the little thief who took it.

Ellie had the scarf for now, and she was not moving out tonight, and so she made the best of it. The soft blue fabric was the most comfortable thing Ellie had ever had the pleasure to sleep on. It smelled of many things that hinted at Sherlock's adventures outside of the flat. There was the smell of rain and aftershave, but also the slight twinge of formaldehyde and blood. That night Ellie had nightmares about Sherlock. Only he wasn't Sherlock. He was the big testosterone filled teenager that had tormented her. He did dirty things with her. He removed her clothes with a switchblade, being rough and not caring when he hit flesh. Laughing when she cried out.

She tossed and turned all night in the confines of Sherlock's scarf, dreaming not only of anguish, but of Sherlock's cold blue/gray eyes analyzing her in her fear. Finally she woke with a start. Sleeping was not something she would be doing again that night, and so she made her way to the kitchen for a midnight snack. As Sherlock had silently promised her, there was a tray of Ms. Hudson's wonderful biscuits just left sitting on the counter. She moved cautiously towards them realizing that she hadn't eaten at all that day. The treats looked and smelled so inviting that Ellie soon lost her surroundings and indulged.

For the second time that day, a shadow crept out to meet her. How could she have been so foolish? Of course it was a trap. No one just sees a miniature person and leaves them alone. Her adrenaline rush came back. Her stomach lurched, her knees buckled, and she went through every stage of loss right there in a matter of seconds. But, before she could collapse into a sobbing ball on the counter, a hand was placed behind her back. A giant hand with long slender fingers.

He had prevented her from falling over. A nice enough gesture, but Ellie could feel the fingers twitching, buzzing almost. They wanted to do more than simply help her. They wanted to study her, but the master of those fingers was stopping himself. An act of compassion? Surly not. It was not Sherlock's style. But here he was, almost wrapping his hand around her protectively.

"Your hurt." Came the deep baritone voice from almost nowhere.

Ellie looked down to see the dried blood still caked on her leg from her adventures earlier. It didn't bother her nearly as much as the human hand slowly curving its way around her. "Don't..." she managed to squeak out before collapsing completely into the giants hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Ellie woke up on a hard surface. It must have all been a dream. She had never taken the scarf; she had never been seen, and she was safe in her hole in the wall. She peeled her eyes open and immediately let out a shriek. Above her was a massive eye. No... it was Sherlock with his pocket magnifying glass. Even still the sight was terrifying. She had been captured... again!

She turned her head to the left only to see an equally terrifying John staring at her. He did not have a magnifying glass, but he was making up for it by getting his face uncomfortably close.

"John, I think the you had better find a way to mend that leg of hers. I would rather not have something so interesting bleed to death on our table."

Interesting... So that was it. Ellie had just become another outlet for his boredom. He would probably love to poke and prod her with medical instruments until he ran out of tests. And then what?

"Sherlock, can't you see that it is in shock. For goodness sake... Fine ill go cut up some bandages." And with that, John left for the bathroom, and Ellie and Sherlock were alone.

"Soo..." He started. After watching him for almost a month she knew where this would be going. "A girl, little over 4 inches tall, obviously..." and then he paused. What else do you say about a tiny human sprawled out on your kitchen table? He went for the usual. "Dust accumulation on the skin and hair indicates that you have been here for almost a month. The fact that you are not yelling for help, or even screaming leads me to believe that you are alone here. Many of your scrapes indicate signs of unskillfulness with your own tools, but others indicate signs of abuse. That coupled with what you said earlier 'Don't' show that you have indeed been the ill-treated. You have been in many different living situations judging by the accumulation of trinkets on your person, and forced to leave each and every one of them by the humans staying there. And now... Now you are trying to deduce whether or not I am going to kill you." He snapped his magnifying glass away with a look of pride on his face.

"I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen you do it before. You got every word." Ellie responded breathlessly. She was so impressed that she momentarily forgot to be afraid. That was, until is hand came back down beside her. She jumped to her feet in an attempt to run, but only made herself dizzy. Once again he caught her before she fell.

"Every word? With someone as different as you, I had expected to get at least a few things wrong. Sherlock, by the way. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"Ellie." She introduced herself, trying to do a little curtsy (something her mum had said was proper), but she only lost balance again. She could feel the pain in her leg now. It was more serious than she had originally though.

Just then John returned with the bandages. He had cut them to a relatively good size, but he was now asking Sherlock for the magnifying glass. Ellie could not stand to be under the thing again. It made her feel objectified.

"Oh. Uhm. John this is Ellie. Ellie this is Dr. John Watson." Sherlock introduced them. John almost dropped the magnifying glass. The look on his face was clear. He had not been thinking of the tiny creature as human, or even really alive.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry. Nice to meet you." He stumbled over his words. You would almost think that he was the one staring down two giants by the amount of shock on his face. He held out a finger as if to shake hands, but Ellie only winced and drew back into Sherlock's hand. She had forgotten that, that too, belonged to a human. "Sorry." He said again. "I suppose I should just let you clean yourself up."

All Ellie could do was nod her head. This was not a position she had ever imagined being. Giving proper introductions; being asked to shake hands; having a giant to lean on for support; she must be dreaming.

"Some warm water and the bandages will really be all that I need. Thank you." Sherlock was unchanged as he went to go fill a shallow saucer with warm water, but Johns jaw had dropped. That was the first he had herd her speak. He didn't know why he had expected her to be mute, or at least speak some foreign language, but here she was, speaking perfect English.

She proceeded to wash and bandage her leg, and intended to disappear after it was all cleaned up, but both men would not let her out of their sight. They asked question after question about her life; starting with the simple "What do you call your kind?" and moving onto more pressing questions. Sherlock was more fascinated by her simple ability to live. It should be physically impossible for someone her size to function according to him. John asked the more human questions like "Where had she come from?","Did she have a family?","A last name?" These questions only bored the detective, and annoyed Ellie. She did not like talking about her personal life, especially not while feeling like a captive.

Finally it was her turn to ask a question. "What do you plan on doing with me?"

"You are all just as simple minded." Sherlock stated out of nowhere. "Concerned with survival. I thought that you were something different, but it seems to me that all you are is a human scaled down."

"Now you see here!" Ellie roared. She would not be reduced to something as simple as "Human scaled down." Her fear had left her, and she simply forgot the pain in her leg. "I might not have a mind like the Great Sherlock Holmes, but I have fought my way through circumstances that would make you scream like a little girl. Spiders the size of beds, and rats the size of houses. Swatted by brooms, trapped in cages, and tormented within an inch of my life. I have earned my stripes as much as Dr. Watson here, and all I want is to stay in ONE place for ONCE in my life!" She was screaming now, and crying.

John was frozen. He once again had that look on his face. The look that meant he had overlooked something completely obvious. Of course all she wanted was a little security. He could never imagine having to move from house to house every time someone simply noticed your existence. He would never understand having to fear for your life every time you crawled out to get household necessities. He felt really sorry for the girl on the table, but he had no way of expressing it. He was about to say something when Sherlock cut in with a question that made him want to murder the detective.

"So where did you put my scarf?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie broke down. She was being kicked out again. He was going to take his scarf back and put her out on the streets. What did she expect. Sympathy is not an emotion that Sherlock Holmes feels. He, as he likes to state, is a sociopath... So what was with the hand that, even now, helped her to maintain her balance.

"Have a heart, Sherlock!" Exclaimed John. At least he felt for the poor girl's situation, even if she had been stealing his socks. It was all for survival.

"You seem to have misunderstood." He said flatly. "I do not wish harm on Ellie. It just seems to me that it would be easier for everyone if she were to live in the flat, instead of in the walls. That way we can make sure that she is safe. Also I wouldn't mind having someone around to talk to who doesn't go to work, or on dates."

John went from wanting to murder the man to wanting to kiss him, reminding himself as always that he was not gay, not that there was anything wrong with that.

"I would like that." Ellie sniffled. She placed her hand on top of Johns pointer finger, and still using Sherlock's hand to balance, the three of them relaxed. Ellie had the sudden realization that she was touching not one, but two humans at the same time, and she had no fear.

Sherlock broke the moment by asking again "Really though, where is my scarf?"

John pulled his hand away, and Ellie regained enough composure to stand up on her own. "I keep all of my supplies in living room wall." Ellie said, pointing.

Sherlock decided that a hammer was not exactly the right tool for this job, and went to fetch a drill and a saw. This left Ellie and John in the kitchen together alone for the first time. John put his hands under his chin and lowered his face to meet her. Even after the moment they had just shared, he couldn't get over how small she was.

"So there are a lot of you out there?" he asked her after some considerable silence. He wanted to know how an entire intelligent civilization went unnoticed by billions of humans.

"Well, we are a dying breed. House borrowers are going almost extinct in largely populated areas, but there are still plenty of rogues in the countryside." She was glad to be having a semi-normal conversation. John was a very nice man, and she appreciated his empathy earlier. "It's funny actually. Rogues seem particularly drawn to war zones. There were probably dozens where you were stationed, and you never saw a single one."

"Well it's kinda hard to pay attention to a tiny person while being shot at." He smiled. Not only would Sherlock have company when he was gone, but he would have someone sane to talk with when he needed.

"This is fantastic." Sherlock called from the other room. He had a large square chunk sawed off of the wall, and behind it was a tiny living quarters. His scarf sat where the bed should be, folded and scrunched into a vague bed shape.

John left to go look at the room for himself, but noticed that he would be leaving Ellie stranded on the table. "Would you like to come with me?" He asked politely, laying his hand flat on the table. Despite her lack of fear earlier, Ellie backed away this time. Living with these humans was going to take a lot of bravery. John noticed her hesitation. "Hmmm... What if I let you sit on my shoulder? Would that be more comfortable?"

Ellie stepped cautiously onto the fleshy palm. It was the first time in her life she had ever been picked up willingly. A rush of air hit her as he raised his hand over to his left shoulder. She stepped off and rushed to grab hold of his shirt collar. She made herself comfortable and then looked out over her new world. She gasped. So this is what a human sees...

John had her her little outcry and checked to make sure she was safe and secure before making his way to the living room. Sherlock's mouth turned up at the corners when he caught sight of the little borrower girl. Pulling the scarf from its position in the wall, he asked Ellie where she would like to have it put, but before even letting her think, he said, "Well my bedside table would be the most logical place. No one would think it odd that I left it there, and I could keep an eye on you if you needed something."

She shivered. Sleeping that close to a human? It was logical, but she was unsure about whether it would be comfortable. After all, she had only just learned to trust them 10 minutes ago.

"I understand that you might have some reservations, but it does make the most sense." Sherlock butted in.

She was sitting on the shoulder of a human war veteran, talking to a psychotic detective, and she was worried about where the bed would go? "That sounds fine to me." She finally said quite flatly. He moved to put the scarf in his room when she asked, "What about my other things?"

"Well I guess you wont be needing them anymore. I can clear it out" He was reaching in and grabbing the spool of golden thread.

"NO!" She cried, lurching forward and almost falling completely off of John's shoulder. He immediately raised a hand to steady her.

"Sentiment?" Sherlock questioned John.

"Sentiment." John responded. This was an everyday occurrence for the pair. Now Ellie would be in on it too.

Ellie adjusted to life outside the walls quite quickly. After the first few days of waking up every time Sherlock rolled over in his bed, she became used to the idea of having him there. It was nice having someone she could trust nearby, but could she really trust him? He was so cold most times. Sometimes, however, there would be moments when he seemed to genuinely care about the people around him. John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and even his brother Mycroft were often subjects of conversation.

John left the flat quite often, but he never went anywhere without first making sure Ellie could get to everything she needed. He would always tell Sherlock to be careful about things, and he would remind him that she would need food. He cared for her like an overbearing older brother.

Sherlock loved having little Ellie to keep him company. He didn't show it, but he was very glad to have her around. It was true that he often forgot that other people might need food, and sometimes he would even overlook that she was 4 ½ inches tall. There would be incidents where he would expect her to keep up with his long strides, and be annoyed when she couldn't hand him objects from across the room, but he never put her in any danger.


End file.
